The Ythrel Hall of Heroes looked so different from the Pyrthet hall that it was hard to recognize the buildings sharing a purpose. The Pyrthet hall had been a place of quiet study and training. It was small, only a half dozen heroes had ever trained there, and only four were considered good enough to fight.

Ythrel had a more storied past, and their hall reflected it. It was as much a museum as it was a training hall. Elzio had worried briefly that it would be difficult to gain access and even more difficult to do so discretely, but his concerns were unfounded.

The entire first floor was dedicated to spreading the great word of the Ythrel Nexus and his great heroes. Crowds swarmed from exhibit to tribute, reading stories carved into marble on the walls, gawking at original pieces of armor, authentic weapons of early heroes, great portraits of the city’s champions. The original rotation of heroes had retired, giving way to a new generation of heroes. While a young nexus, early in their years, might see several fights in a year, often those fights dried up as the nexus moved on to bigger targets. They might only engage in one fight a year, but those fights were all the more dangerous. The stakes were higher. The opponents deadlier.

Twenty-seven years had passed since Ythrel first started fighting. Most of those battles had been conducted in the early days, leveling up the Ythrel Nexus quickly to level 6. After that, as Argeny grew more powerful, Ythrel dramatically slowed their growth. Amos elected to battle only enough small nexi or echos to stay competitively leveled, but weak enough to not be a threat. His heroes had to stay sharp without leveling too high, a struggle Elzio personally knew. But for Ythrel, it was even more severe. Several heroes had entered into training and either leveled too high or fallen out of their prime without ever fighting a battle.

It was necessary, though. Ythrel needed a powerful and affordable rotation of heroes to call from.

The hall was abuzz with excitement and chatter now, as hundreds poured into the lobby, eagerly reading over displays that gave sanitized details about the past heroes and battles: enough to keep citizens happy but nothing enough to ever provide a spy with an edge. Fortunately, the crowds provided Elzio significant cover as he slipped through happily chattering civilians, each excitedly placing bets on which heroes might make an appearance.

Elzio was here to break their spirits, crush their pride, shake their faith to the core. It was either that or die. Either that, or let them die. Destroying their nexus wasn’t as devastating as the borderline genocide Deluuth was famed to prefer, but it was still a blow to their culture, one Elzio would have done anything to avoid.

His thoughts occupied him as he wove through the crowd, eyes peeled for his destination. Finally he made his way to a semi official looking desk.

Elzio leaned in to the harried young woman scribbling notes behind it. “Excuse me, ma’am,” he said, keeping his voice low and polite. “I’m looking for a Carlin.”

She barely spared him a glance. “Right, understood. Over…” The woman waved a hand over to a door off to the side. “If he’s not there already and doesn’t show up in a few, just let me know.”

It wasn’t clear whether, given Tylin’s instructions, Elzio should let the woman know, but that would be a problem dealt with should the mysterious Carlin not appear. For now, as Elzio stepped quickly towards the door, he would just pray that the man showed up.

Fortunately, this potential dilemma didn’t end up manifesting, as the moment Elzio stepped through the door, he was greeted by an absolute behemoth of a man.

“You’re Elzio, right?” The man towered close to a foot taller than Elzio and had muscles Elzio hadn’t been aware humans could grow, all of which he could see given the man’s shirt was more the suggestion: a ripped vest that didn’t care much to try to meet down the center.

“Carlin?” Elzio said, closing the door behind him. “I was sent here to meet—”

“Yes, yes, of course. God, what a mess this all is.” Carlin gestured to the now-closed door, behind which they could still hear the murmuring of the crowds. “Goddammit this is a mess. Damn.”

Elzio slowly stepped further into the room. It was more of a hallway, with two doors on either side, a door at the far end, and only a pair of chairs and a small table to give it the actual semblance of a room.

“This meaning… the fuss outside?” Elzio didn’t quite want to play his hand yet. Yes, time was short, but he could afford a few minutes.

“The battle. The damn nexus battle. I know we’re on the same side here.” Carlin ran a hand through his shock of short blond hair. “We win this. You know it, I know it, we all know it. We win and get jack all from defeating you, and then Deluuth kills us all. And as a hero, I go down with the ship. It’s messed up.”

Ah, so this was a hero who didn’t want to die. “So the heroes were made aware of the nature of our offer?” Elzio asked, voice clipped. “You all know? Why are you the only one who seems to have seen through it?”

Carlin froze, hand midway through his hair. “We weren’t told,” he said. “We were fed a story immediately upon your dismissal. It was fast. They wanted to give us their side of the tale—that you all came to hoodwink us. Wanted us angry at you before anyone could challenge the official story.”

Elzio nodded, running a finger over a crack in the wall, eyes lazily moving from his hands to Carlin’s face. “And yet you got the truth.”

“I know who to trust.” Carlin’s voice dropped so low that Elzio almost missed the next sentence. “My brother’s on the council.”

The resemblance had not struck Elzio at first, but now he saw it. Of course, Carlin was the size of three Tylins, but they had the same eyes—the same large, dark green eyes that looked owlish on Tylin but actually fit Carlin’s broad face. They shared a nose too, one that looked comically small and button-esque on Carlin but fit Tylin’s narrow face much better.

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“Ah. Yes. We spoke earlier today.” Elzio took a deep breath. “Quite the high achievers in your family.”

Carlin snorted. “On the surface, maybe. Neither of us are happy with what we’re doing.” He sighed. “Tylin’s hands are constantly tied by bureaucracy and procedure. He complains constantly that any time he attempts any real good, it becomes ‘ensnared by process and sits eternally spinning on square wheels.’ His words, not mine.” Carlin grinned. “I’m proud of him but I understand his irritation. And he’s got no sway over the Heroic faction, which is bad news for me because I’m… not quite doing what I want to be doing either.” His grin slipped before he waved a hand. “Anyway, that’s not really what you’re here for, is it? No one travels across the continent and breaks down the door of the castle just to talk to a disillusioned hero. You need help. And I don’t want to die. Think maybe we can work together on this.”

—

Elzio returned to the camp straight away from his trip to the Hall of Heroes. Carlin would be meeting up with them a short while later. They’d elected to move away from the city, with privacy in mind, and traveled separately to avoid too much suspicion. Carlin may not want to fight on behalf of Ythrel, but if anyone saw him with Elzio, whispers would abound, which would put Carlin at risk, to say nothing of what might happen to his brother. The battle may be set to take place the next day, but an assassin or even a guard didn’t need a nexus battle to slit the throat of a councilor whose traitorous brother was seen fraternizing with the enemy.

Syrene wasted no time descending on him the moment he returned. “Did you find anything? Anything useful? We have a reasonable arena laid out and some potential paths to take concerning spending points, but we have to know—”

Elzio held up a hand. “Not yet. I have a lead but nothing concrete.” He swallowed, hoping Carlin didn’t get cold feet. The last thing he needed here was for the burly hero to abandon their tenuous alliance. “A very promising lead,” Elzio added, catching Syrene’s eyes anxious darting towards Echo. “One that should be arriving soon.”

Syrene’s eyes dashed down the hill, combing the trees and brush for a moving form, and Elzio could tell she was suspicious. She had every reason to be. Ythrel had not exactly welcomed them to their city, but without an ace up their sleeve, Elzio, Syrene, and Echo would fall easily to the Ythrel Nexus. No tricks or traps were really necessary. Ythrel had no reason to attack before the nexus battle.

“There!” Elzio’s shout was both more enthusiastic and relieved than he’d meant it to be, but the whole journey back from the Hall of Heroes had been tense, and he needed the win here.

Syrene jumped atop a small rock to see what Elzio had pointed out. Her sea-green eyes narrowed as they landed on the burly figure making his way up the hill, a large, heavy pack over his shoulder. When he saw Elzio and Syrene, he waved a hand at them and began to hurry.

Who is he? Echo had hovered beside Elzio so she too could see Carlin. He has information for us?

“He’s a hero,” Elzio said. “Carlin, brother of Councilor Tylin, who we saw at the castle. One of the dissenters. Neither are happy about the decision to fight and both of them believe that Deluuth is mounting an attack. They want to help their people.” He’d been worried that, upon recounting Carlin’s decision, the argument would sound weak in his own mouth—the result of wishful thinking and desperation. Instead, Elzio felt his heart swell with conviction. Someone in Ythrel would want to fight, and they’d found him.

Carlin came to a halt a few dozen feet away. He held up his hands, a sign of good faith. “Elzio,” he said, voice just loud enough to clear the space. “Can I approach?”

Syrene’s eyes had shifted to a deep blue, and after they held Carlin in a deep look, she nodded. “Echo?”

He may proceed. He bares no threat to me in this state, and if he does come to challenge and fight us, we would be dead come sunset tomorrow. We need him.

We need him.

Elzio let out a deep breath and then nodded to Carlin, who approached.

“I really appreciate you hearing me out,” Carlin said, as he finally reached their campfire. “Really. As far as I see it, you’re maybe the only people who can help. Me and the rest. The city, the nation. This is the kinda crap Tylin’s been predicting for months, but he’s always been the idealist of the council and—” He stopped, taking a deep breath. “So what’s your plan?”

“In process.” Syrene gestured to the open notes and illusionary charts that showed their arena. Her eyes darted to Elzio, who sighed. Her lips tightened grimly, the unspoken understanding passing between them. They didn’t have the luxury of suspicion. “We know what past arenas have looked like, but we don’t know who we might be up against. Even hero classes and levels are unknown to us. We’re hoping you might be able to provide some of that for us. If possible, even more. Who they are. Their lives, their relationships, their mannerisms, anything that might help us get a glimpse in their heads.” Anything that might help Elzio effectively copy them, masquerade as them.

To Elzio’s surprise, Carlin’s brow furrowed, a look of surprise blossoming across the burly man’s face.

“Intel. Information. Interpersonal, uh, conflicts. Huh.” Carlin both sounded taken aback and upset. Maybe even disappointed. “Right. Tylin didn’t mention that but it does make sense, if you’ve got…” He trailed off, craning his neck to see around Elzio and Syrene. His eyes combed the camp, and he looked even more confused.

What had Tylin told him? How was Carlin this unprepared for the task Elzio had specifically requested? Clearly, there had been a breakdown of communication. Carlin, with his huge pack and squared shoulders, looked almost more ready to—

“Oh.” The word slipped through Elzio’s lips before he could catch them, but it didn’t matter because he understood now. Tylin had been a step ahead of him. Or perhaps the councilor had known what Elzio really needed, what he needed but would have never dared ask for. In hindsight, it almost seemed ridiculous that Elzio would only have asked for information when he really needed— “A volunteer.”

Syrene’s eyes narrowed immediately. “A volunteer?”

“I mean.” Carlin shrugged, but the big man looked almost awkward, embarrassed. “I figured… or rather, it seemed fitting. Look, if Deluuth wins and takes over the nation, all the heroes die. They’re not going to risk us fleeing to a different nexus and building it up to power. I’m going to die if you lose. Yes, I can tell you everything I know, but, well, assuming you haven’t already built a solid enough battle plan that you don’t need me, if you’d have me… I would fight for you.”

This last sentence wasn’t directed at Syrene or Elzio, but rather directly at Echo. It was well said too, and the nexus swelled—barely perceptibly, but it was there. Just the hint of excitement at having someone swear to her. Echo lacked the general lust for power and hunger for submission that consumed so many nexi, so it was endearing to see such a display of personality from her.

We will accept him, she said, voice piercing directly into Elzio’s and Syrene’s minds.

Elzio caught Syrene’s eye, who shrugged and nodded. So he turned to Carlin.

“You’ve made a compelling case,” Elzio said. “And time is short before the upcoming battle. We’ll accept your gracious offer. Now—” He gestured to all three party members to join him around the holographic map of the nexus. “Let’s see about securing another day for us all to live.”